


The Hell We Live In

by Shadow15



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Blood and Injury, Bucky Can't Consent Either, F/M, He Is Only Doing What He Has Been Taught, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:15:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22431700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadow15/pseuds/Shadow15
Summary: The Winter Soldier is used for more than just killing. He is also used behind the scenes for what he is told is punishment for others, but rather, his handlers just get off on the power they have over him and what they can make him do.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	The Hell We Live In

It wasn’t often the Soldier was roused from his slumber. Usually, the defrostings meant targets to eliminate, or weaklings to train. But somewhere in the back of his mind, whispers echoed that although the process was the same, the cues were all wrong. Where there should have been discussions of his missions and his health, there was laughter and loud jeers and no mission debriefings. 

What came instead were slaps on the shoulders that, in another life constantly pulling at the edges of his conscious he was sure meant good natured playfulness, and words that held some sort of recognition to him, but not enough to understand the meaning behind them. 

It didn’t matter, though; whatever his handlers had in mind for him, he would obey without complaint or opinion; an empty gun that existed only for the trigger to be pulled at his handler’s wishes.

The Red Room was something familiar to the Soldier, where he would be instructed to train others but usually found himself bored and agitated at the complete lack of challenge and stimulation presented to him. 

But weapons did not have opinions or wishes or complaints; they existed only to serve.

If the Soldier was expected to train others again, the cues he was once again presented with caused malfunction in his mind as he was not used to the laughter and cat calls that accompanied him being elbowed and prodded at like a dog that was misbehaving. 

The Soldier wanted to bare his teeth and growl like the feral dog he was treated as, but weapons did not voice their displeasure at their handlement, so he remained still and silent, his eyes empty and his expression even emptier. 

“You think he can still get it up?” 

“Who knows, but we’re about to find out!” 

The Soldier did not understand the laughter that followed. He did not understand the exchange in general. But he did not ask, and he did not question; he only remained still and silent as he waited for his orders to be given. 

The Soldier was led through the building, to a closed door he didn’t remember ever going through before. The door was opened, and when he was allowed to see inside, his lips twisted into a sneer as a strained hiss escaped him. 

More laughter, but still, the Soldier did not understand what was so funny. 

The woman on the other side of the door set alarm bells off in the Soldier’s mind. His mind hissed only one word, over and over again until he was settled by his handler’s command; _Dangerous!_

Another slap on the shoulder - always the flesh shoulder; the Soldier was used to the entirety of his metal limb being treated as if it carried plague within. “You think you can handle this, Soldat?” 

The Soldier gave no hint he had even heard the words; his eyes remained focused on the woman inside, gauging her every movement to assess the danger, despite her being tied down to the bed with ropes that would not break beneath her pathetic human strength. 

“Soldat!” 

The Soldier’s eyes finally broke away in order to look at his handler, a stubbled, greying old man with a bald patch the size of the Soldier’s palm. His face conveyed nothing, blank and empty, ready to be moulded into whatever he was required to be. 

His shoulder was touched again, this time taken into a non-too-gentle grip with fingernails digging through his tac gear and into his flesh. The voice, thick with Russian accent quivered beneath emotion that strangely was not fear, but rather… Something else. “Soldat. She has been _naughty_! You will put her into her place, da? Show her what happens when you do not conform.” 

The Soldier fidgeted. He was not suited for torture, quick and clean what he was best at. He did not know how to prolong the pain without death to quickly follow; his strength was too much, and he did not always have control over how heavy handed he got. 

A chuckle - almost _fond,_ a void in the Soldier’s mind seemed to whisper before disappearing into nothingness, quickly forgotten - sounded by the Soldier’s side. A hand stroked up and down his flesh arm, gently, in what could have been considered soothing by anyone who was not the Soldier and instead felt his skin prickle with disgust and the need to escape. “No, not like _that,_ Soldat~ We need her alive, still; she is very valuable to us. Like you~ But we need a very _special_ skill from you that only you can achieve~ The special skill you have utilised for us several times before~ Da?” 

The Soldier ran the words through his mind until he realised his purpose. He gave a single nod. “Da.” 

“Very good~” Came the purr once more. 

The Soldier stayed motionless as hands unbuckled his belt and reached inside to grasp his flaccid cock. His eyes closed, hating the feel of the latex glove that always accompanied this action, but knowing it was mandatory for him to fulfill his orders; without the assistance he would not be able to achieve the necessary hardness required for his skill set. 

But with the hardness always came a primitive urge, one he did not understand why it was happening or what he was feeling, only that he needed to go, and so he did. 

“I told you he can still get it up,” the handler sneered to his rookies, their first time seeing exactly what the Soldier was used for behind the scenes, but all the same understanding that it was hard to believe the Soldier was still capable of arousal after all the years of having his brains scrambled. “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet, kids.” 

The Soldier had long-since learnt that he was deemed ready to fulfill orders once the hand was removed from his pants and the glove pulled away and tossed carelessly to the side for some poor cleaner to pick up and dispose of later on. So once his pants had been loosened and his erection poking out, he went inside and clambered onto the bed, not hesitating to use his massive bulk to cover the much smaller, petite one that was barely moving - most likely drugged, the Soldier knew; sometimes they drugged him as well when they deemed him non-compliant. 

A single shudder run through the redhead’s body, only one, but violent enough for the Soldier to feel it ripple through his own bulk. It was no matter; he had long-since stopped caring about consent or lack of thereof once one of his old handlers had assured him that it didn’t matter what other people wanted, and as long as the Soldier wanted to fuck, he was allowed to fuck. 

And so the Soldier was going to fuck. He stared down into the redhead’s face, her eyes half-hidden behind long, messy locks of red. Her jaw was slack, her breathing coming in short. A single flicker of imagery passed through the Soldier’s mind before it, too, vanished into the void most thoughts ended up in; a single image of his erection in her mouth, and the possibility of how good it would make him feel to do so. 

But that was not his mission today. The Soldier’s metal fingers crept down the naked, sweaty body, down her chest and past her abdomen, traversing the small nest of hair and ending between her thighs to poke and prod the heat there. 

“Stick it in, Soldat!” The jeers were loud, whooping and cheering as the Soldier’s metal fingers slipped inside the woman’s heat to find her entrance. And with that, he pulled his hand away, lined himself up, and with a single thrust, he pushed inside with so much speed, so much _strength,_ the woman cried out despite her drugged stupor. 

“That’s it, Soldat! Harder! Harder!” 

The Soldier’s rhythm was not slow in the slightest. He was rough, the muscles in his back rippling from the force of his thrusts as he moved so aggressively, so _violently,_ the bed creaked and groaned with every slam against the wall. 

“Hold her tits!” 

The Soldier did as he was ordered. He grabbed the woman’s breasts, holding onto them with bruising force as he rocked himself in and out, in and out, aware of the sticky wetness clinging to his erection he had come to learn meant blood. 

The woman was screaming now, her body creaking and groaning almost as loud as the bed was as the Soldier’s erection penetrated things that were not meant to be penetrated. He had killed people before in this manner, he knew. He did not remember doing so, but his handlers have told him, so it must be correct. The blood that was now slipping past and onto the bed sheets certainly told him he was capable of doing so at the very least. 

Tears run down the woman’s face, but she seemed too drugged to beg and plead like most of the others did. She laid there, taking it, although it was plausible it was just her restraints keeping her so pliant, the Soldier pondered. 

A single grunt escaped the Soldier as he felt the strange need building in his stomach. He sped up, his hips rocking at piston speed. 

“He’s been going fifteen minutes,” one of the rookies exclaimed in amazement. 

“And it’ll be another fifteen _minimum_ before he finishes,” the handler promised, full of pride that made the Soldier’s pleasure spike. 

The Soldier kept thrusting, despite the insides of the woman becoming harder and harder to penetrate as resistance built. He has broken something inside of her, perhaps multiple things, the Soldier decided, but it was not enough to stop him; he would not stop until he had reached his climax. 

The Soldier was promised long ago that his need was much more important than anyone’s pain or begging, and whatever the Soldier needed, he was to take, no matter how many tears were shed or how many times he was asked to stop. 

The Soldier would not stop, because this was one of the rare occasions he was allowed pleasure rather than pain, and he would not pass this up for anything - perhaps not even his handler’s order to stop. 

The Soldier orgasmed eventually, his body freezing and his muscles clenching as he emptied himself inside the woman with a long, loud groan. He was still spilling, his release much more than the average person’s due to the serum, he had been told, and so when he finally started pulling himself out, he held his tip against the woman’s entrance, letting his release splatter and coat her outside in white. 

The Soldier did not react when he felt someone rub his lower back in praise.

“Such a good boy~” Came the coo of his handler. “So good for us, Soldat~” 

The Soldier stayed where he was, on his hands and knees so he could stare down at the woman’s entrance, coated in blood and semen and opened up so much, the Soldier could peer into her if he were to lay down. The stirrings of arousal took him again, and he found himself hardening once more as he continued staring at the evidence of her destruction. 

His handler laughed, rubbing his back again. “It’s okay, Soldat~ There is plenty more for you to have your fun with~ If you are _extra_ good today, I will let you have another turn with her~ But for now, there is another who requires discipline~ Such a _good boy_ you are, Soldat~” 

One of the rookies came to the bed. The Soldier ignored him mostly, but the strings of possession churned in his stomach as the rookie laid his hand on her stomach and felt around.

The rookie’s laughter was deafening. “Man, she’s never fuckin’ havin’ kids! Feel her! She’s had her fuckin’ insides rearranged!” 

The handler’s chest puffed outward with pride. “When he gets horny, he gets _horny_. Someone stay and clean her up for him to have his fun with again tonight. For now, he gets to have a play with Romanov’s neighbour~” 

The Soldier knew he wasn’t supposed to have opinions or complain or even _want,_ but he couldn’t help it; he was looking forward to round two, even if he didn’t understand _why_. 


End file.
